


all in my mind

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis and harry find out they're expecting, and tell the boys. kind of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all in my mind

the morning sickness starts sometime around mid-august.

it’s five am and tour has just ended; they’re finally on break, and so there is literally no reason for him to be getting up any time before five pm, when he’s set his alarm. but at six am, his eyes flash awake as he feels nausea crawl up his throat, and he's only just disentangled himself out from under harry's iron-clad grip and ran to the bath before he's vomiting into the toilet. 

louis spends god knows how much time there, emptying the entire contents of his stomach into the porcelain until there's nothing even left and he's clutching his stomach and retching air. 

when he finally feels like he can inhale without getting the urge to throw up, he gets up and rinses his mouth with mouthwash, reminding himself to yell at zayn later on for putting rat poison or something equally atrocious into the soup last night, before stumbling back to bed and under the covers, curling his pounding head against harry's chest. harry's hands instinctually tighten around his waist, and he feels a little better already.

-

this continues for a week before harry notices.

louis' always made sure to be as quiet as he can, rushing to the bathroom downstairs when he can so as not to wake harry. plus, it's always way before harry is even close to waking, an hour before sunrise. 

it's during one particularly bad episode where he's been stuck in front of the toilet for what feels like years, that harry wakes up, probably due to the sound of his incessant moaning and the unnaturally frequent retches. 

as he leans forward and releases what's basically only clear bile at this point, he feels a cool hand on his forehead and another pushing his hair back and off his sweaty forehead. 

harry murmurs vague reassurances into his ear, curling his body around louis' back. "shh, you're fine, you'll be okay, babe." 

louis moans and rests his cheek against the porcelain, only getting a moment's reprieve before he's tilting his head and pressing a hand to his stomach as it contracts around air. 

by the time he's finished, harry has worked himself up to a total frenzy, frowning down at louis and helping him up to make the strenuous journey to the sink. 

"you look like death,” harry says. 

louis spits into the sink. “thanks for the comfort, doll.”

harry doesn’t laugh, still frowning down at at louis with intense eyes. he always gets like this whenever louis has even the slightest headache, wary and protective. “has this happened before?”

“a few times, most mornings this past week.”

harry’s frown gets deeper. “we should go to the doctor, yeah, lou?”

“no,” louis shakes his head. “just a stomach flu, see, if only lasts like, a short bit of the day and it’s not even that bad, stop fretting, dumb.” he leans up on his toes to kiss harry on the corner of his mouth, patting his shoulders reassuringly and rushing back to hide under the covers before harry can suggest something horrendous like starting their day.

-

louis managed to hold off a doctor’s visit that time, but after it continues for another week and a half and stops being regulated to only mornings, harry gets paul and the others boys involved and then he’s being almost forcibly dragged to the hospital.

“i’m _fine_ ,” he whines for the fiftieth time that day. liam, zayn, and niall are in the rover with them, headed to play with orphaned horses or something courageous as such; they’re dropping harry and louis off at the doctor’s and they’ll take the bus back after. louis wonders if it’s weird, the way they operate, considering that harry alone has around ninety cars, and they’ve each, zayn excluding, have their own personal modes of transportation, but sometimes it’s nicer travelling together even if they don’t have to. some people would probably call this an unhealthy and abnormal level of codependence.

“shut up, louis,” zayn says. not looking up from his phone. 

“you’re not fine,” niall replies, leaning forward in his seat to flick him in the ear. 

harry turns onto the parking lot. there’s a bit of a struggle in getting louis to exit from the passenger side, just short of violent, but then harry threatens to forcibly remove and carry him into the doctor’s offices, and louis would like to do this with some sort of dignity. 

after grabbing his water bottle and rummaging in the the console for his wallet, he heaves out a heavy sigh and lets harry help him down from the rover, not letting go of his hand once they’re in public view. it’s nice, being able to walk down the street holding harry’s hand now or mouth his happiness against his mouth after they’ve won an award or gotten good reception at a charity show, or whatever. it’s nice, and comforting, and makes him feel safer and definitely not so caged.

they're actually not late for their appointment, a feat in and of itself, and it's only a few minutes of sitting in the almost empty waiting room and one autograph later before they're being called to the back. 

the nurse does the checkups, making sure his vitals are all functioning properly and that jazz. harry stands off to the side, alternating between texting and making dumb faces and lewd motions when the nurse can’t see.

“are you okay?” the nurse asks when louis starts getting red from trying to stifle his laughter, jotting something down on his clipboard and lifting a questioning eyebrow.

“yeah, yeah, sorry. remembered a funny joke.” harry grins and winks at him.

they get sent to room 201 to wait for the doctor. she comes in a couple of minutes later, introducing herself as, “doctor eldon, good morning, mr tomlinson.” she nods towards harry, and he beams back at her. she’s harry’s usual doctor, but louis avoids going to any sorts of medical facilitations unless he gets forced or may have a terminal disease, so he’s out of the loop on that. who needs a doctor when they’ve got harry practically acting as a nurse at home when he’s got even the slightest cough? “vitals are all in check, no swelling tumours noticeable by the viewable eye, so what seems to be the issue here today?”

“call me louis, please. and nothing, harry here is just being paranoid and wants me to get a check up,” he replies, scooting back on the exam bed. 

“i’m not being paranoid. he’s been throwing up a lot, almost every morning, and sometimes looks like he’s in a lot of pain, like a migraine. and he’s lost his appetite.”

doctor eldon hums. “it’s a good thing you’ve got someone paying attention, louis, these seem like symptoms we at least want to check out. lie back for me and put up your shirt.”

louis does everything she says as she checks his heartbeat, the inside of his ears, nose, mouth. she frowns and jots things down on her fancy clipboard. 

“why are you frowning, is something the matter, am i dying?” 

she laughs. “i’m fairly certain not. just that there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with you externally, but throwing up so frequently isn’t very healthy. when and what was the last thing you ate?”

“um, some biscuits around nine last night.”

“yes, that’ll work. i’d like to do some blood tests for you, if that’s okay.” louis doesn’t think it’s okay, not at all, but her tone doesn’t seem to suggest anything other than common courtesy, and harry throws him a _look_ over her shoulder and louis would actually prefer to have sex sometime in the foreseeable future. 

“yeah, sure.”

louis' knee starts bouncing violently the second she reenters the room with all the supplies. "are you, um, planning on taking a lot?"

"no, you'll only get pricked with the needle once, so no need to worry much." she smiles reassuringly even as she swipes a tab of alcohol on the inner crease of his elbow and louis can hear the _jaws_ theme playing ever so reassuringly in his head. 

right when louis thinks he might lose it all together from the anxiety, harry walks over and takes louis' hands in his, turning his face away from the doctor on onto him, resting their foreheads together. "hey," he whispers. louis doesn't manage to reply, because he can now feel the metal on his skin and wow, he's going to die like, in a hospital room. 

harry tilts his head up then, squeezing their palms together and kisses him, slowly and firmly. louis doesn't notice when the needle pushes his skin. harry doesn't pull away until the needle has been thrown away in the bin, leaving louis all dazed and fond. he loves harry, actually, a whole lot.

-

two weeks later, dr eldon calls them to come in for the test results. she hadn't been able to prescribe him anything without a full diagnosis, so louis has been both dreading and anxious for this visit. the vomiting hasn't stopped at all.

"m'probably dying," he sighs regrettably, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as they wait for the final light to turn green. 

"that'd be unfortunate," harry says from the passenger his knee propped up on the dashboard. he's got one set of fingers clicking away at his phone, maybe on twitter, judging by the faces he makes, half amused, half disturbed. his other hand is resting lightly on louis' over the stick of the porsche, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly over his knuckles. 

"yes," louis agrees. 

the office is totally empty today, one pm on a tuesday, and almost immediately after they arrive, louis is sitting on the exam table, bouncing lightly on it with his palms braced flatdown on the crinkly paper. 

"reminds me of last night," harry smirks. 

louis doesn't get to come up with a scathingly witty reply, shutting his mouth when dr eldon comes in. harry is still smirking in triumph. louis would hope that his dick falls off but that has too many negative effects for him, too, so instead he shoots harry a glare and reserves to knee him in the eye or something equally life-damaging. 

“good morning, mr tomlinson,” dr eldon says.

“louis,” he corrects. 

“louis,” she nods. “it’s a pleasure to see you both. i’m glad you could come.”

“am i dying?” 

she snorts. “it’s a lot rarer than death, i can assure you. you are - well, to be blunt, louis... you’re pregnant.”

louis doesn’t say anything for a moment, his face stuck in the same facial position as he waits for the other ball to drop, and for her to laugh and tell him that she’s joking and he’s really only caught a bad flu that’ll go away with medication. she doesn’t.

“um,” he says.

“um,” harry says. 

“well,” dr eldon says. “i can understand why you might be surprised.”

“might,” louis strangles out.

“um,” harry repeats. 

“indeed. while male pregnancy _is_ somewhat uncommon, it’s not rare enough to be a taboo, so i’m sure you two have encountered it a few times.”

“is zayn behind this?” louis asks. “i feel as if zayn is behind this.” he contemplates taking his phone out to call him and curse him out, but he’s found himself unable to move or even really breathe. 

“i have the test results right here, but i feel as if that won’t be able to convince you. so if you please lay back, i can show absolute evidence.” she smiles reassuringly at him. louis wonders if the romans smiled at jesus before they nailed him. 

louis does lay back, though, because she scares him more than a little bit. out of nowhere - or maybe he just got understandably unobservant after ‘pregnant’ - she takes out a long curved wand and a packet of whatever and louis thinks, _wow_. it reminds him of when his mum was having the twins and she allowed him to tag along. his mum. mother. woman. pregnant. not him. louis thinks again, wow. 

louis takes off his shirt as she commands and lies back. there’s a small tv that he also hadn’t noticed; after she sticks a freezing gel to his stomach, there are a few low beeps and then the screen changes from static to a black and whiteish blur of nonsense. louis is still convinced this is set up by zayn. 

“harry, come here,” dr eldon says, waving him over with her free hand. harry does, coming to stand almost directly in front of the tv. he’s an interesting shade of purple that louis hasn’t seen in a few months. still rubbing the ultrasound over louis’ stomach, dr eldon lifts her finger and points somewhere to the left of the screen, circling wildly for a second before pinpointing on an exact spot. “do you see the ovalish form right here? and - if you stay very quiet, you can hear its heart beating.” louis stays quiet. he hears _something_ , but he’s sure it’s nothing more than his blood pounding in his own ears. 

harry breathes, “oh.” louis mentally sneers at him.

“i don’t see anything,” louis tells her. 

“oh, they’ve moved.” dr eldon swirls the wand around to his lower stomach, and presses down a little harder. “and... there they are! not very formed yet, but you can see the vague form.”

“lou,” harry sighs. “do you see it?”

the scary part is, louis thinks, is that he _can_ see it. he can see it well enough. and he can feel something pressing down inside of him where the doctor’s got her wand and it’s. his head is fogged up.

“i need to pee,” he says. 

dr eldon smiles lightly at him, her eyes softening. louis wonders if he looks okay. probably not. he’s not okay. dr eldon cleans him up quickly and louis slips his shirt back on. “would you like copies of the ultrasound?”

“no,” louis says. 

“definitely yes,” harry tells her, grinning. the sight of his happy face makes louis feel sick to his stomach. he’s going to pee on harry. he’s going to throw up on harry.

dr eldon ends up giving the pics, which louis finds disrespectful, but she allows them to leave two minutes later with a folder of incriminating photographs and an appointment set for a week from now.

as louis pees, he recalls every single pregnancy he’s ever witnessed, his mum’s especially. he frowns at the mirror when he washes his hands. he’s still frowning as he exits the bathroom. when he sees harry waiting for him, smiling widely with the folder in his stupidly large hands, his frown gets deeper, and he walks briskly past harry all the way to the car, not paying attention to the other prat at all. 

“louis,” harry starts once louis is pulling out of the lot. 

louis raises his palm up and shakes his head. harry grins. at a red light, harry tries to kiss louis on the cheek, and louis turns his face away. 

“do you think i’m a _child_? don’t kiss me on the cheek.”

“child,” harry repeats. louis grunts in disgust. 

he wonders if there are people taking pictures of them right now. probably. he can see the headlines already: _styles and tomlinson of one direction seen having relationship issues at a red light! the scandal!_

“you’re a relationship issue,” louis tells harry, pulling into zayn’s apartment complex. 

“i know,” harry says soothingly. “louis. we’re having a baby.”

louis whips his head around to glare at him steadfastly. “don’t,” he says softly. 

harry smiles and waves the folder in his hand.

“it’s not yours, it’s grimshaw’s,” he snaps, opening the door and shutting it shut. he doesn’t go around to open the door for harry before storming towards the lifts, aggressively poking the up button. sadly, harry’s ugly long legs catch up quickly before the doors can properly close. 

“you hate nick.”

“second coming of christ. it’s no one’s.”

“ _jesus_ ,” harry says.

“isn’t that what i just said?" louis asks, glaring at harry. there are loads of question marks in his head, so it sounds much angrier and judgemental there, but harry just laughs and steps closer, crowding him back against the lift walls and kissing him. 

louis pulls back. "you're not supposed to kiss me when i'm angry with you, styles." harry hums and leans his head down to press his mouth back against louis', and well, louis thinks, there's only so much willpower even the most upset man can have when it comes to harry. 

"why is zayn so high up when he's afraid of heights?" harry asks when they step out.

"why is zayn admired by millions when he doesn't care for superman?" harry concesses, nodding his head in agreement. "do you realize that there were cameras in there?"

harry knocks on the door. "fanservice."

"jesus," louis says. 

"is that definitely what we're calling it now?"

"do you know what - " 

he's cut off by the door almost smacking in his face. harry pulls him back just in time, exclaiming, "niall! you've got to be extra careful now, mate."

"sorry, lou. why extra careful?" niall asks.

“absolutely no reason at all,” louis replies, pushing his way through the door, roughly pulling harry with him so that he doesn’t do something stupid like breathe too loud and give it all away. 

“ow,” harry complains. 

“good,” louis replies. 

zayn is sitting on his couch, his entire body somehow spread out over the wide sofa. he’s got a bag of crisps in his hand, and there’s a documentary on, like, the mongols, or some sort of similarly boring topic that only he and harry would ever care about or enjoy. 

“get out,” zayn tells them, voice garbled with his mouth full of crisps. 

louis ignores him, walking over and forcefully pushing his legs off the couch. a few crisps fall onto zayn’s shirt, and he grumbles as he removes and pops them in his mouth, fixing himself to a sitting position. 

“malik,” louis starts. “are you responsible?”

“for what?”

“you know what.”

“he actually doesn’t know what,” harry says, plopping his bony ass onto louis’ lap. “unless we make even worse decisions when we're drunk than we think."

"you're right," louis says, harry beams, but then louis notices the folder resting on his too long legs where they're spread out in front of louis', so he continues, "it's probably zayn's." 

harry ignores him. rude. "guys, we have some very big news to tell you. where's liam?"

niall answers, sitting on the loveseat. “went to pick up the pizza. when i checked twitter, he was in the middle of fifty or so girls, so we can only hope that the pizza gets here safely. and him, too, i guess. what big news?" 

"there is absolutely no news, big or otherwise.” harry cranes his neck down to narrow his eyes at louis. there’s a knock on the door, and as niall gets up again to get it, louis continues, “don’t look at me like that. i have plausible reason to murder you.”

“reason to murder who?” liam says, shutting the door with the heel of his foot. he’s got three large boxes of pizza in his hands, which louis knows probably won’t be enough, not that it ever is, even though they all continue to get the same amount every time as if, by some miracle, they’ll all start eating less. 

“harry,” zayn answers, hands already reaching up to grab a box from liam as he walks by. “big news, apparently.” he opens the box a bit to gaze inside and makes an annoyed noise as he shuts it back right away, leaning forward to hand it to niall’s eager hands. “s’fucking pepperoni and sausage, disgusting shit.”

“hey!” niall defends. “they’re on separate halves.”

“still disgusting,” zayn says, taking the next box and smiling contentedly when he sees the contents. it must be the half-cheese and half-mushroom box that he and harry always share. this is confirmed when he takes a slice of cheese from it and passes it to harry across the long length of the sofa. 

“what type of total tosser eats mushroom pizza, that shit’s just worrying,” louis says like he always does, even though they all know that he’ll nick a slice when harry isn’t looking. 

“shut up, louis,” harry garbles around a mouthful of _mushroom_ pizza, placing the folder to the side in between louis and the couch. 

“you don’t get to tell me to shut up, you told me that in bed and look where we are now.” harry rolls his eyes. louis is indignant and allowed to be as upset about this as he wants. 

after things have gotten settled and liam is on the floor, a few packs of beer on the coffee table and _finding nemo_ on the television. they’re too caught up in eating to talk about the ‘big news’ until louis makes to take a beer and harry smacks his hand. 

“no drinking,” he warns. 

the room suddenly gets very quiet, only the tv playing in the background.

“interesting,” says niall.

“are y’alright, harry?” liam asks, concerned. “are you ill?”

“shut up,” harry replies. “i’m fine. but louis won’t be if he drinks alcohol.”

“you’re stopping the alcoholic from drinking alcohol,” zayn intones, taking a bite of his pizza and raising a curious brow, like he’s trying to make sense of it himself.

“i’m not an alcoholic!” louis defends.

“of course not,” niall soothes. louis doesn’t think niall has any right to judge anyone else’s liquor drinking habits. 

“it won’t be good for louis or the bab - ”

louis hits harry hard on the back of his head, pushing him off. harry ends up stretched awkwardly on the floor, one leg up on the coffee table and his head in liam’s lap. “you fucking idiot,” louis hisses. 

“ow,” harry whines. 

louis finds it suspicious that the other boys are so quiet until he sees the folder open on the floor, the repercussions of his actions hitting him full fledge. 

“well,” zayn says, head bent awkwardly so as to be able to be properly able to read the words on the paper.

louis makes a noise in the back of his throat that is most certainly not a whimper, he’s a grown fucking man - a _grown fucking pregnant man_ , his mind reminds him, so he tells his mind to piss off - and then, lovely lovely _lovely_ , he needs to throw up. 

“bargftl,” he manages, and then he’s running to the kitchen and barely makes it to the sink before he’s vomiting. 

he might still be very angry with all, all-caps and all, but when he feels a familiar scent and warmth and hand rubbing his back, he less than minds, leaning slightly back into harry’s touch even though he’s still retching. louis feels very gross and will probably strangle harry when he’s done and brushed with the spare toothbrush but for now, the knowledge that his favourite boy wants to help him feel better is okay. 

until gets back from the bathroom, breath feeling minty fresh and stomach finally calmed, and niall says, ever so casual, “ _so_ , pregnant, huh?”

harry grins, so wide it must hurt. louis grunts and flops back onto his spot on the couch, taking a pillow and holding it tightly over his face. maybe if he presses hard enough he’ll die. 

zayn’s hands gently pry it away, chastising, “don’t suffocate yourself, it’s not good for the baby.”

louis makes another unintelligible sound. he throws a fist out in the general direction of harry is, and is pleased when it hits him in the crotch and he doubles over with a gasp of pain. he should have hit him earlier. eleven weeks earlier. should’ve castrated him when he got the chance. except, louis thinks with a frown, he likes harry’s dick too much. he needs to stop, though. that’s what got him into this mess in the first place. because he let harry get into him. 

"no need to be violent," niall says, stealing the last of liam’s and narrowly avoiding getting a punch in the throat. “and tell us everything.”

in four months, when he’s bloated and grumpy and needs to piss every five seconds, louis knows he will regret have ever told anyone anything ever but right now, with the barely-concealed smiles on their faces and the satisfaction in his chest that is purely from hitting harry in the balls and nothing else stupid and sappy, he figures that doing so couldn’t possibly hurt. 

“so,” he starts, clearing his throat and instinctually scooting over when harry makes to sit down, “when a spectacular, intelligent, sophisticated man loves a paleolithic idiot - ”

“you being the paleolithic idiot, right?” zayn asks, stealing the beer that should rightfully be louis’ - whatever, it’s lukewarm anyway, he hopes zayn is the next to throw up. 

he tries to ignore them, but then harry is saying, “definitely, he’s so old, like, y’know? ancient.”

he’s not even speaking english, louis’ going to castrate him for good this time, and he means it. 

“is it safe to be reproducing in your old age?” niall asks, affected worry in his voice. “wouldn't it be dangerous?”

harry tilts his head. “could it? do we ne - ”

“you bloody twat, i’m 23, and my age seriously should be the least of your worries, maybe you should focus more on whether or not you’ll live through the night,” he rants, poking harry aggressively. 

“hostile,” liam murmurs.

“ _anyway_ ,” louis all but yells, ignoring harry’s laughing and the warm, large hand on his thigh. “when a man makes the grave, terrible, horrible, no-good, really bad error of falling in love with another man—”


End file.
